


"Is That my Shirt?"

by OwlosaurusRex



Series: Metal Gear Drabbles [7]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, V has some issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 10:26:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11355555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlosaurusRex/pseuds/OwlosaurusRex
Summary: higharollakockamamie on tumblr requested "Is that my shirt?" with vkaz and it kind of got out of hand. It's not nearly as fluffy as it could be and much longer than I anticipated. I'm not happy with the ending but I've spent enough time on it so I'm ready to move on. Hopefully they still like it though! I missed writing with V~Honestly, I'll probably reuse parts of this in other projects cause I really like them lol would be a shame not to use them in more 'serious' projects of mine. We'll see.





	"Is That my Shirt?"

Motherbase glowed in the early morning darkness, each platform winking like its own private star in the nothingness between the black sea and clouded sky. It was a beacon--a porchlight welcoming V home after a long mission. V could hear Pequod speaking but couldn’t make out his words over the sound of the chopper and the low static of his own thoughts. He was probably calling for medical staff to meet them when they landed--a job V should have done himself but he couldn’t bring himself to move; he couldn’t look away from the lights. They looked so promising, so hopeful, and that’s what V needed to remember in that moment--that there was hope. Life wasn’t all gunfights and kidnapping or war and espionage; there was comfort too. There was home.

With a deep breath, V closed his eyes and struggled to keep from receding into himself. He had to stay present and alert despite his weariness and despite the blood now mostly dried in sticky clots between his fingers. It had been a long couple of days and a long night especially but life went on. At least, it did for _him_.

Pequod’s voice sounded again as they made their descent and V managed to find what inner strength he had left before sliding the door open and dropping down onto the platform. It wasn’t long until the first medics arrived and V watched them approach with an inescapable feeling of dread.

They walked with the quick, steady gate of men resigned to a job failed before it even began and V stepped aside to let them into the helicopter. There was nothing more he could do. He did his best and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost someone on a mission and it wouldn’t be the last, so he didn’t look back once the medical staff took over and instead wandered deeper into the bright glare of the command platform.

V wasted little time in reaching the temporary showers, hardly pausing long enough to nod at the soldiers he passed. He was tired, he was dirty, and while the gush of cold water made short work of the blood caked on his skin and the sand in his hair, there was always something deeper--something the water couldn’t reach. Sand ground between his teeth and blood stained his clothes and deep into his conscience. The cold water numbed his fingers, made thoughts of Afghanistan few and far between, and had V fumbling with the latches of his gear.

His guns were the first to fall to the shower floor, followed by holsters and straps, his eye patch, and his grasp of time. The water ran for as long as he needed, stinging against his cheeks and running between his fingers as he leaned against the shower wall. To be cold was a blessing. Numb, released from the physical and left to drift in the sound of water thrumming on his equipment, V felt more like himself in that moment than he ever did in the public eye. To be himself meant to be lost. There was no other way.

“Snake? V, where are you?” Kaz’s voice crackled in V’s ear sounding coarse and tired. V was slow to react, blinking against the steady flow of water and letting his head roll against the wall as he gradually reeled himself back in. He couldn't drift far, his job wasn't over. It was never over.

“Kaz.” V spoke slowly and he could hear the hollowness in his own voice, letting his words float and dissolve in the shower spray. “Just landed.”

There was a brief pause and the sound of muffled cursing.

“Stop by my office on your way up,” Kaz said and V could feel what little piece of himself he’d manage to find start to slip away again--hiding behind the thick veil of ‘Big Boss.’

V didn’t bother responding and instead went about collecting himself. He turned off the shower, gathered his waterlogged gear, and stepped out into the morning sun before he had a chance to think too much. The light was dazzling, the sun having climbed high enough to cast long shadows across the platform and V clung to them as he followed his usual path to Kaz’s office.

V was welcomed with the sound of Kaz’s angry voice and, muffled as it was by the office door, it was still loud enough for V to hear that someone was likely having an even worse day than he was. And it wasn’t difficult to guess who.

He opened the door without knocking or hesitation, fully aware that he was still dripping and leaving puddles on Kaz’s floor, and was not the least bit surprised to find Kaz leaning over his radio, a scowl on his face.

“And you didn’t think _this_ was important enough to--” Kaz faltered as he looked up and gave V a quick once-over. For as wretched as V felt, Kaz looked equally as exhausted.  Ocelot’s voice could be heard crackling over the radio but Kaz paid it little mind; too busy staring at what must have been a rather pathetic sight.

“Listen, I’ve got more important things to attend to but this isn’t over. I expect a full report by tomorrow morning,” Kaz said and ignored Ocelot’s snide response in favor of flipping the radio off altogether.

“Christ.” He sighed and rubbed at his face beneath his glasses. It wasn’t often that V failed missions and despite how long he and Kaz had worked together he still wasn’t sure what to expect. In these moments, these situations, V realized it was better to abandon expectations altogether, especially after all they had been through. But still it was difficult not to look at Kaz and wonder if he was disappointed. If, perhaps, a phantom wasn’t what he wanted after all.

“V, where have you been?”

V blinked, struggling to refocus and found Kaz eyeing him from over the rims of his glasses.

“Just took a shower.”

“How long were you in there? The log says you landed almost an hour ago...”

V didn’t have an answer for him. His perception of time hadn’t been the best since his deep sleep and it wasn’t uncommon for pieces of his day to go missing without him realizing. An hour wasn’t much to a man who had lost nine years in the blink of an eye.

Kaz huffed irritably and slid the glasses off his face in favor of rubbing at his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were returning so early or I would have been there when you landed,” Kaz said. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were here until, what, 30 minutes ago? I was only asleep for an hour, maybe two, I--"  
“Good.  I'm glad you got some rest.” V couldn’t help interrupting and in any other situation might have challenged Kaz’s look of agitation but chose to let him go instead.

Kaz tossed his glasses on the desk and shook his head.

“Whatever. That’s the _last_ time I trust Ocelot like that, I swear. I haven’t even had a chance to call the infirmary to check on the--”

“He’s dead.”

Kaz looked up quickly. “What?” he snapped.

V didn’t say anything, there was nothing more to say, and Kaz stared at him long and hard, a scowl tugging at his lips.

“Dead. Of course,” he said and muttered under his breath about lost business and reworking funds.

“I’m sorry.”

Kaz practically froze up at the statement.

“Why?”

V frowned in momentary confusion.

“I couldn’t--”

“You did what you could.”

V didn’t answer, wasn’t sure what he should say--what he _could_ say. He’d done what he could, yes, but there was always _more_ \--he could always do more, do better, try harder. This time ‘what he could do’ wasn’t enough. Next time would be different.

“V...The blood on your shirt?”

V didn’t look down, didn’t miss a beat.

“Mostly his.”

“Mostly?”

Kaz stared at him and V could see the slight furrow of his brows and the way he searched for wounds that weren’t there. It wasn’t V’s blood, it usually wasn’t, yet that realization didn’t seem all that comforting to Kaz.

“I see.”

There was a moment of quiet between them where Kaz sighed and tried to gather his thoughts while V let his wander as far away from the mission as he could allow.

The office was too warm, too dim, and it felt odd without the steady buzz of monitors and radios. It wasn’t often V got to see Kaz away from his work and the room was almost never silent. It was unnerving. Even Kaz looked different. V had seen him in every level of dress and undress--in every mood and varying physical states, yet something was off about him. There was a very firm image V had of what the ‘normal’ Kaz looked like, sounded like, acted like--and it didn’t take long for him to zero in on the nagging difference.

Kaz was dressed simply in a plain shirt and sweats that he’d obviously thrown on in a hurry when he’d heard of V’s arrival. It didn’t look like he even took the time to put on his prosthetic in his haste, but what really struck V was Kaz’s shirt. It hung slack, too loose across his shoulders so it sagged around the neck and V felt a brief stab of concern. Was Kaz losing weight? It was no secret that the commander often got so engrossed in his work that he forgot meals and the levels of stress he dealt with on a daily basis wasn’t exactly healthy for him either. Not to mention his poor sleeping habits.

V took in a deep breath and held it as he ran through various scenarios. If he said anything about Kaz’s health it would definitely end badly for him. Kaz was so quick to shut down any discussion about his habits or well-being that it was almost impossible to figure anything out beyond what he could decipher just from looking at the man. There was so little he could actually do--

“V. You still with me?”

V looked up from where he had been staring at Kaz’s chest and slowly let out a long breath.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m fine,” V assured him and despite Kaz’s momentary concern, he took V’s word for it.

“All right. I know you’ve been out for a couple days now and with all of... _this_ happening you should take some time to recoup.”

A couple days. Right. There was no way Kaz could have lost enough weight to be this noticeable in three days’ time. He looked fine when V left and even now looked healthy enough if not drained. So, if he wasn't sick, then...

“I’m going to have to make some calls.” Kaz sighed and dragged his chair closer to his desk as if to settle down and get back to work. “They won’t be happy to hear--”

“Kaz. What are you wearing?”

Kaz had leaned over his desk, glaring at some document or other but straightened at V’s question.

“I told you, I was sleeping. Ocelot didn’t think it was pertinent to inform me of what was going on,” he sneered but V could read something more than simple irritation in the way Kaz glanced down and away and tugged at the front of his shirt.

“Kaz…” V took a step closer, only the desk separating them now, and eyed the shirt intently. “Is that mine?”

Kaz huffed and dropped his hand to the desk to steady himself.

“What?”

“The shirt,” V said and watched as color crawled up Kaz’s neck, burning at his ears.

“It’s...it’s not what you think. I just...” Kaz scrambled for an excuse but came up empty-handed before ultimately giving in. He nodded reluctantly and stood waiting, watching V for some kind of comment, a response, anything, but all V could do was smile.

“I can--I’ll take it off. I can make the calls later, let me just--”

“No. Kaz, it…”

It meant a lot to him, meant more than it should, but how could V say that? That was dangerously close to admitting things better kept in the quiet spaces between words and the few comfortable moments they spent together.*

“You don’t have to,” V said and met Kaz’s stare as evenly as he could. Kaz looked uncertain, nervous and V wondered what he was thinking, how he was feeling.

“I...don’t want you to.”

“You don’t?” Kaz narrowed his eyes, searching him--searching _for_ him--as V struggled to pull himself together.

His smile must have seemed strange and V knew it. It felt strange, _he_ felt strange. He realized that he was straying from the image of ‘Venom Snake’ but he couldn’t help it. He was jumbled, all over the place and nowhere at all but Kaz was solid and steady.  
“Are you sure you're alright?” Kaz asked.  
_Was_ he all right? He wasn’t sure anymore. It was so difficult to keep things straight. One minute he was drifting away and the next he was faced with the reality that someone cared--that _Kaz_ cared. It felt good; it felt dangerous. V didn’t respond, his smile ebbing slightly.

“Vern?” Kaz reached for his crutch leaning against the desk and V closed his eyes at the sound of his name. It was always a little shocking to hear it and to feel something pull at him--something from deep in his subconscious trying to drag itself free of Big Boss’ influence.

V could hear Kaz’s uneven steps as he rounded the desk--his pain evident in the heaviness of his breathing as it hissed through clenched teeth--and was a little surprised to feel the brush of Kaz’s fingers against his hand.  
“Christ, you're freezing. How long were you in that shower?” Kaz asked and V could feel their arms touch briefly as Kaz adjusted his stance.

V opened his eyes just enough to look at Kaz in front of him with a small shake of his head. He didn’t want to think about that now. He didn’t want to think of the mission or himself or anything other than the simple fact that Kaz cared.  
“You thought of me?” V spoke slowly, carefully, and managed to meet Kaz’s gaze.  
“Of course I did.”  
V shook his head. “Not for work.”

Kaz hesitated, confusion crossing his face momentarily before dissolving into something vaguely annoyed and embarrassed. V wasn’t expecting an answer, had seen Kaz shrug off similarly personal conversations before without a second thought, and took Kaz’s silence as dismissal.

“Kaz, I--”

“Yes.” Kaz spoke quickly, in a burst that seemed to surprise him as much as it did V.

“I...of course I did. You think I wouldn’t?”  
V stared at his face, watched Kaz’s pale eyes look everywhere but at him, saw him frown and flinch at the chill of his fingers when V lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Kaz didn’t pull away but he didn’t look at him either.

“Kaz…” For a moment V wasn’t sure what to say. It was overwhelming, really, to think of Kaz caring so much. He knew Kaz cared but this suggested more than V had ever hoped for.

That Kaz would think of him beyond the mission, to think of him, of V, a man without an identity, who failed missions and wore the blood of men that shouldn’t have to die--was nearly too much to comprehend. Perhaps it was just his instability--heightened as it was from watching the prisoner die--or perhaps it was his lack of sleep, but either way, _seeing_ that Kaz cared struck him far more profoundly than it should have.

V smiled again, felt every warm feeling long repressed and held at arm’s length try to rise to the surface and he cupped Kaz’s face with his hand. His cheek felt warm against his palm as Kaz finally looked up at him.

“You think this is funny?” Kaz asked, looking ready to pull away.

“No. Kaz, no. I just…I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s just a shirt.”

V shook his head--nearly laughed--and bit at his tongue. It was so much more than that but he wouldn’t say it, couldn’t find the words if he wanted to, and maybe it wasn’t all that necessary anyway.

Kaz looked at him with an expression of equal parts exasperation and affection.

“Well, whatever,” he said and tried to shrug it off. “Regardless of any of that, you're still wet, V, and cold. You need to change.”  
V huffed in amusement at Kaz’s obvious change in subject. “Right. I’m sorry.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Don’t start apologizing. We both know you won’t stop. Let’s just go get you cleaned up,” Kaz said and nodded at the office door for V to head out while he retrieved his aviators from the desk.

V felt much lighter knowing that regardless of what he did there was still someone thinking of him, of _him_ and not Big Boss--of him as a person. To be missed was a warm feeling and one V wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. It might be more than he deserved but he wasn’t about to refuse it.

“And V?”

V stopped in the hall and looked back expectantly as Kaz shut the door behind them and tried to avoid the puddles V left in his wake.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Kaz said and smiled a small, rusty smile that was nearly too much for V to handle. He stood there a moment, struck by how beautiful it was; beautiful and sincere. When was the last time Kaz had smiled like that?

V couldn’t help his staring and took a moment too long to recover before he could manage any sort of a response.

“Me too,” he said and quickly fell in beside Kaz who had already started down the hall without him. V hesitated only a moment, watching the lingering smile on Kaz’s face, before reached out carefully to brush his fingers over the back of Kaz’s hand. “It’s good to be home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> If you liked this and feel like supporting your friendly neighborhood Owl, I've got a tumblr with links to a bunch of my stuff here:   
> http://owlosaurusrex.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks again~


End file.
